


you can't choose what stays and what fades away

by harukatenoh



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, horrible exorcists, i hate them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:05:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5121032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harukatenoh/pseuds/harukatenoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natori and Matoba meet, miscommunicate, make a scene, and several other words starting with m that have negative connotations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can't choose what stays and what fades away

**Author's Note:**

> me: [pulls up rhymezone.com and searches "negative words that start with m"]
> 
> this is unbeta'd, unedited, dont @ me about it (unless u notice a mistake. then, go ahead. pls) . anyway, horrible exorcists, exorcists who are horrible and gay, call 'em whatever you want, they suck and i need somebody 2 punch both of them and then lock them into a room so they can have a long talk about their feelings (for each other).  
> special chapter 15 is the bane of my existence. please read natsume yuujinchou so special chapter 15 can ruin YOUR life too!
> 
> song title is from no light, no light by florence + the machine

“What do you _mean_ , Matoba Seiji is here?” Natori growls with fists clenched. Natsume shrugs helplessly, and after holding the boy’s gaze darkly for a while, Natori releases his anger with a sigh. He doesn’t like to see the worry on the boy’s face, and it isn’t Natsume’s fault that Matoba has a knack for showing up exactly where Natori didn’t want him. Sometimes Natori’s convinced it’s on purpose.

Of course, the idea that the head of the Matoba clan goes out of his way to antagonize somebody like Natori is one part absurd and one part terrifying, so Natori doesn’t dwell on that thought for long. Natsume has already started wandering off, and Natori starts regretting bringing him here. He’s begun to regret a lot more things surrounding Natsume recently, and it’s only vaguely troubling.

With another irritated sigh, he waves Natsume away, warning him to be careful and stay out of Matoba’s way. Instead of disappearing like he usually does however, Natsume decides to linger, watching Natori with that heavy gaze.

“Why do you hate Matoba so much?” He asks, a genuine question. Natori toys with the idea of not answering and sending Natsume on his way, but the expression on Natsume’s face (and his lucky cat’s) tells Natori that the question wouldn’t be so easily avoided.

“Would you leave me be if I just said everything?” he replies, making sure his voice is as tired and weary as possible. Hesitation flickers over Natsume’s face, and it looks like respite for Natori until the boy steps closer, reaching out a hand.

“If you really don’t like him that much, we can leave. I don’t mind leaving this ayakashi til another day, since it’s not doing anything dangerous yet.”

This time, Natsume had asked Natori for help with a particularly evasive ayakashi in one of his friend’s houses, and Natori had been all-too-willing. He’d had his eye on this one for a while, and with Natsume providing the location, it seemed like an easy finish. However, they had both been in the house almost all day, and while they caught glimpses of it, the end of the hunt wasn’t in sight.

Natori shakes his head, brushing aside Natsume’s concerns.

“It’s fine, we’ll finish up in here soon enough anyway.” Natori could feel his frustration with the ayakashi rising as the time passed, and he’s about at his peak. If they couldn’t catch and seal the ayakashi soon, Natori is in half a mind to leave it at the mercy of Matoba and call it a day. Cruel, but efficient, as the Matobas often are.

(Natori had been leaning more towards that side as well, but months of tempering against Natsume’s warm flames had left him considerably softer, swaying his opinion. He loathes to admit it.)

Natsume is still watching Natori with that patient look, annoying Natori enough for him to click his teeth, turning away from the boy’s gaze. Now shielded from it, Natori feels slightly more comfortable.

Tinged with regret (from what, he isn’t sure), he starts talking.

“I don’t hate him,” he begins, and then ends. It’s an awkward cutoff, but he doesn’t know how to phrase it, this mix of emotion he feels towards Matoba Seiji. The most appropriate thing to say would be _I don’t understand him_ , but Natori knows it’s deeper than that.

Sometimes, he doesn’t know at all, and maybe that’s what worries him.

Natsume is still watching Natori expectantly, and all he can do is offer Natsume a shrug. Natsume nods slowly, face confused, but doesn’t question any further. He makes to leave, then stops and turns back to Natori.

“You two are quite similar, did you know?” Natsume asks, and Natori wonders what trait he possesses that allows him to say things like that so simply. The question hangs in the air, and Natori frowns. He had forgotten just how observant Natsume could be.

The image of Matoba standing at the riverside flashes in his head, and so do the words he said that day. It’d been a long time ago, and the memory was hazy, almost out of reach.

_We walk different paths._

Then, he had walked away, just like that.

(The doubt has crossed his mind many times, that when he said _we walk different paths_ , it was untrue. Maybe he had chosen that path, the one that lead away from Matoba. He was the one who walked off, after all.)

Natori shakes his head, clearing away those thoughts, and motions his hands at Natsume.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with, I’m in the mood for ramen.” The carefully placed comment works well, as the cat beside Natsume picks up his pace, leading Natsume out of the room while chattering excitedly. Left alone, Natori bends down, helping prepare the sealing circle alongside his shiki.

Time passes without interruption, letting Natori focus fully on his work. Of course, the calm cannot last for long.

The door to the room he’s in slides open, and he doesn’t look up, expecting it to be Natsume. The voice that rings out instead almost sends Natori’s papers flying towards the source.

“Meddling again are we, Natori?”

Matoba sounds the same as ever, cold comments with just a hint of mocking, enough to set Natori on edge. Taking in a deep breath, he steadies himself, steeling his resolve. He’d been hoping that today was a “pointedly ignore each other and be on our way” day, but Matoba is set on being disagreeable, it seems.

“Not as much as you are right now by being in this room, surely.” He responds, continuing his work on the circle without a glance up. It’s half to irk Matoba, his unresponsiveness, and half because he hates to have to look at Matoba’s face. It fills him with even weirder emotions than being in Matoba’s presence usually evokes, that cruel, mocking mask of the clan heir.

If Natori’s lack of attention gets to Matoba, he doesn’t show it (well, not in a way that Natori can notice with his back turned) and the man continues on smoothly. “You’d best watch out, Natori. The ayakashi is in the west wing, and it seems like your little protege is heading straight for it.”

Several replies are on Natori’s tongue in an instant, _he’s not my protege_ or _he’ll be fine on his own_ but what comes out is instead “Why are you telling me this?”

He recalls asking himself these types of questions, all of them falling into the same vein, the same dull ache.

_Why are you telling me this?_

_Why are you doing this?_

_Why can’t you just reach out?_

_Why? Why?_

He’s not sure who the words are meant for, if they’re for himself, or for the shadow he can still sometimes catch at the edge of his vision, just out of his grasp. Eventually, he’d learnt to keep quiet, keep the questions unvoiced and the shadows banished.

(For a person who made a career out of sealing and banishing the ghosts in one’s closet, Natori sure does a shoddy job of it. His other job however, with the fake smiles and measured words, he excels in.)

“I’d hate to see him hurt. And you know, playing the knight in shining armour was never really my thing.” A stray piece of paper is in Matoba’s hand, and Natori turns his head and watches as it burns up in the man’s fingers, illuminating his face.

Worry unfurls inside of Natori, because if Matoba is cautioning him then there must be something wrong. He stands up, directing a glare Matoba, and the intensity of his gaze throws the other man off. Natori almost sees him flinch.

“Thanks.”

Brushing off his knees, he then strides past Matoba. When he passes him, their shoulders brush, just barely.

Natori holds his breath until he’s out of the room.

* * *

 

Matoba holds his breath when Natori leaves the room.

Moments, years, a held breath later, Nanase walks into the room. She studies the scene with a critical eye, recognising Natori’s paper circles. With a sigh, she taps Matoba on the shoulder.

He exhales, finally.

“Where is he?” She asks sharply.

“The west wing.” Matoba replies, composure back from the few seconds of breathless tension.

Nanase turns to him with eyebrows raised, mouth open, before Matoba cuts her off.

“I know. The ayakashi’s headed straight for this room. It’s better that he’s out of the way, don’t you think?” Matoba flicks a hand, and his shiki materialize. Shrugging the bow off of his shoulder, he strings it with practiced ease.

Nanase looks like she has something to say, but her mouth remains shut. She steps back, letting Matoba fit a bow to his arrow, and they wait.

The ayakashi comes from the ceiling, a guttural groan running down the walls and reaching Matoba’s ears. He stands at attention, an easy smile on his face, eyes narrowed.

The ceiling bursts open like glass shattering, pieces falling all over the room. The black mass behind the smoke and debris is large, two red eyes leering at Matoba from the darkness of the roof. Behind him, his shiki deflect any shards falling towards him, giving Matoba the time to pull back on his bow.

The arrow reaches it’s goal with a thud, running through the left eye of the ayakashi. It screams, the wailing causing even more pieces to fall. Out of the corner of his eye, Matoba catches glimpse of Nanase, her umbrella open, looking awfully calm despite the size of the ayakashi.

Still screaming, it reaches out a murky hand, grasping the air in front of Matoba, sight clouded by the smoke and it’s lost eye.

With an inhale, Matoba draws another arrow, aiming at the other eye.

He releases it, the black streak flying towards the spirit, but before it reaches it’s mark, a white blur gets there first, burying itself in the ayakashi’s eye.

It screams one last time, then crumples in on itself, like a piece of paper, until there’s only a handful of black ash falling from the ceiling.

Whirling around, Matoba comes face to face with Natori, who has anger lining his usually warm features.

“You lied.” He spits, with the same force that he launched his paper shiki.

Matoba shrugs, meeting Natori’s burning gaze with his own measured one. “You couldn’t have handled it.” He says the harsh words softly, cautioning, praying Natori finally gets the hint.

He gets nothing but a hurt, angry glare.

Matoba isn’t sure what he expected, so instead, he swings his bow back into place and picks up his umbrella. Then, he walks past Natori, making sure their shoulders don’t brush this time.

He walks away.

 


End file.
